Helichoidal
by Kaak
Summary: An exploration of the meeting of the Western linear and Eastern circular concepts of time, as centered about the renovation of the cliffs beneath that most Glorious of cities.
1. Waterfall City

**Helichoidal**   
  
1 // Waterfall City   
  
_"What hour is it?" I asked, reaching instinctively for my pocket watch._   
  
_Malik took a step back. "Time for _Kentrosaurus_ to hatch. Time to plant the millet. Time for the magnolia buds to open. Professor Denison, I'm afraid you persist in thinking of time as numbers."_   
  
-- Dinotopia: A Land Apart From Time, by James Gurney   
  
++++++++++++   
  
Enit came to visit Malik in the morning of a crisp, classic Waterfall City autumn. The fierce deinonychus toeclaws clicked against the tiled floor of the well-lit, breezy Museum of Clocks and Sundials. A middle-aged woman, her hair shoulder-length and nut brown, her face wind-weathered, looked up from her inspection of a Roman sundial and smiled in awed recognition.   
  
"Chief Librarian?" Her tone indicated a question and, though Enit was in a hurry, the saurian raised a foreclaw and clicked his way through the many ticking exhibits. As he approached, she turned and gestured to the case before her.   
  
_Ah._ Enit nodded at it and turned to her, expectant, prepared to disguise his impatience at her fumbling of words. She surprised him, however, and reached out a hand to touch the stone pedestal.   
  
"There are second hands on that watch, Chief Librarian. I would assume the outside world will only become better and better at measuring time in seconds." She looked up at the deinonychus and frowned, worry creasing her forehead. "What kind of person needs to understand seconds?"   
  
Enit stepped back gracefully, and ducked, holding his head to his chest long enough to convey to her his similar ignorance. _I know not either, my dear,_ he thought, and wished humans could speak deinonychus, and the same in reverse.   
  
She nodded and, still troubled, looked again upon the exhibit. "Living by seconds makes time go by too quickly."   
  
The chief librarian raised his head and clicked forward, reaching out with one foreclaw to rest it over her shoulder. _Yes._   
  
Still disturbed, she smiled through her confusion. "I'm keeping you, Chief Librarian. I apologise."   
  
Enit shook his head and fluted a hopeful scale, then bowed properly and jerked his head at the door to the stairs.   
  
"Good day, Chief Librarian."   
  
With a farewell wave of his claw, Enit turned and gathered his wits about him as he strode on powerful limbs through the exhibits. Behind him, Arthur Denison's watch lay silent upon its blue silk pillow, atop the pedestal of stone. Stone that fell all the way to the core of the earth, and stone that was melting even as he spoke, rippling and rupturing because it had been wasting away before its time.   
  
++++++++++++   
  
"Malik!" Their conversation was to be in the particular dialect of saurian they both spoke fluently, but Enit allowed his to be sharpened by the worry he had not allowed the young woman in the outer museum to see. The deinonychus took the stairs down into the domed room with careful, awkward little steps. He hopped to the floor and straightened up, bobbing like a bird from agitation.   
  
"Enit!" Malik pushed his spectacles up his nose and turned from his place a story below on the steps by the water wheel that creaked as the Polongo rushed through. Enit's sharp hearing swung him in the direction of the green and grey stenonychosaurus and Malik raised a claw in greeting as he came up the surrounding stairs. "I received your letter this morning; I thought you were to be earlier."   
  
Enit snapped from frustration, not from anger at his friend. "Held up by a visiting Haven group."   
  
A saurian less aware of Enit's priorities might have protested. Another hour would make no difference in the greater scheme of things, whereas inspiration could happen at any time and students were, always, the greatest resource of the educated. Malik shook his head and reached to grasp his friend's claw in commiseration. "Were they poets?"   
  
"Not a lick of sense in the batch," the chief librarian growled. "Sharp tongued and eager only to receive, and not to share. Their teacher was appalled and will be short with them this afternoon."   
  
Malik was tentative, turning to nod at the monument that spiraled to the ceiling. "Perhaps they were not all to blame," he suggested, and he could feel Enit's sudden, piercing gaze. The chief librarian was ready to seize onto this newest development, and Malik did not disappoint.   
  
"There have been many youngsters who have stepped through my doors these past few days. None are more than fifty. They have never seen the scaffolding against the falls and they are worried. The rumors are circulating."   
  
"A council meeting will be called." Enit thought best when moving and did so then, stalking around the wide walkway that circled the helichoidal geochonograph. He glanced back at Malik, who followed with rather less urgency. "I am a librarian and not an engineer, nor an architect, nor a mechanic. How could this happen?"   
  
Malik stretched his neck, birdlike, and switched from authoritative lecture to gentle counseling. "I am only a timekeeper."   
  
"They will ask for my recommendation." Enit turned gracefully on his tail and curtailed the range of his stalking to the immediate platform between the helichoid's waterwheel and the waterfall. "Counsel me."   
  
The timekeeper stretched once more and stepped away from Enit, measuring his words with care. "We are the citizens of this proud city above the falls, are we not?" he asked, softly, rhetorically. Enit stopped moving in that way only carnivores can do; he became still as a statue, self composed and silent, waiting, listening. Malik continued: "And so, it is not impossible that we have reacted with haste because this is our home and the place in which we raise our families."   
  
Enit gave a nod, a single jerk of his elegant head in agreement.   
  
"My counsel is thus." Malik peered over the stone wall that kept the water in its course over the edge of the waterfall that became a thundering, mist shrouded morass far below. "When has nature ever run perfectly to time? The best calendars rely on leap days and tweaked seconds over thousands of years. If we are so emotional because this is our home, then why do we turn to the clocks and say, first of all, that it has only been sixty years since the last time the waters speared the cliffs this deeply and therefore assume the problem does not exist?"   
  
This last the timekeeper said with his fluting dropped low, for footsteps were taking the stairs from the Museum into the spherical dome beneath the One Earth Globe; he and Enit shared a long, contemplating look, and then the deinonychus turned away.   
  
"You forget, Timekeeper, that we must look to the future. We must know when to become worried. When an esteemed brachiosaur breaks her hip, we have waited too long. We have an obligation to our people to keep them safe. Sixty years." He said the words and shook his head, agitated once more. "Sixty years! How can we take on a project of this magnitude twice a decade?"   
  
Malik's beak lifted in a sad smile. "You are short-sighted for all your age, Enit. If Sauropolis is the center of paperwork on this island, Waterfall City is the center of wonders. Ask for help and they will come, flocking to you like migrating birds across the seas. They will come, they will be strong, they will take the hammers, and they will make the walls of this city strong once more."   
  
Enit paused on the stairs but did not look behind him. His tailtip twitched and he finally muttered, a guttural snarl from the primitive jungle whence his ancestors had come centuries before: "_Sixty years!_"   
  
++++++++++++   
  
Malik welcomed into the spherical room the pack of young maiasaurs and their human friends. He explained the facilities, how the waterwheel moved the geochronograph and the origins of this philosophy of time. They were all well behaved, though easily distracted, and he found himself relaxing after the odd meeting with the chief librarian. They had been friends for years, well respected by everyone in the city and by most across the island at large, but still there were things in which they disagreed.   
  
"Some persist in thinking of time as only circular," he told his young charges. "And others persist in thinking of time as linear. From point A to point B, as it were." He turned to wave a claw. "Put the two thoughts together and you have what we have here..."   
  
His lecture was well received and all of the youngsters were willing to be herded back up the steps into the Museum. Malik turned with a sigh of relief when the last cheeky burgundy maia child vanished around the bend. They were trained enough not to break anything and so he appreciated them, but their questions were always fascinating and they left the timekeeper drained. Perhaps, he considered, wandering back into the room-beneath-the-dome, it was time he stepped out to the new Thermalan cafe up Fountain Avenue near Sauropod Square.   
  
He squawked surprise as he saw the thin, barefoot boy who still stood, alone, gazing up at the helichoid chronograph from behind the water wheel. Malik could see his slender, short frame clad in a grey tunic and blue pants through the slats of wood revolving, rising past his face.   
  
Malik opened his beak but found himself without words. He knew maia and those children has translated, but this boy did not have a saurian partner with whom he could speak. The timekeeper remained frozen as the boy reached up with one thin hand to brush back his shaggy blond curls from his face; he turned and walked silently around the observation deck, gazing up at the great spiraling monument. Malik watched the boy's pale blue eyes tracking the pulleys and the joints of the attached metal machine; he caught the boy's lips moving and wondered if he were speaking and could not be heard over the waterfall, or if what he said was for himself alone.   
  
_What do you see?_   
  
The boy's face creased in concentration and his lips moved soundlessly; Malik could not step forward. The boy counted, slowly, his forehead creased, the effort painful for him.   
  
_Time is circular._ The thought surfaced, suddenly, and Malik pounced on it, followed it through to its conclusion. _You have been here before, and it was not you. It may be you once again, but it may be only an illusion. There is no way to know. We live only in the here and now. Many a philosopher dreams the future and the historian the past, but for the timekeepers everything would be gone, lost, derelict._   
  
The elderly timekeeper said nothing, only watched the boy watch the helichoid; waiting for the realisation of the unraveling, circular yet linear, unfolding future of time itself. Moments later, the boy's lips froze and he raised an unaware hand again to brush away his curls, still gazing at the monument. He looked down at the waterfall rushing over the edge and Malik wondered what he saw.   
  
_Are you good at carpentry, boy? Masonry? Engineering? Design? Architecture? Moving bricks? Manual labor?_   
  
The boy looked at his fingers and, once more, back up at the helichoid. He gave one last cursory inspection of the island's history and the island's future. Malik realises that he, the timekeeper, must move soon, must go and find himself some lunch. _Is this how Enit feels, when the student poets come and his presence is requested elsewhere? _   
  
Unaware of his intentions, Malik trilled softly over the rushing water of the falls and the creaking of the water wheel. The youngster looked up at him without fear or surprise, and held out both hands, fingers splayed.   
  
"Today," he said. "I am ten years old."   
  
Malik felt maniacal laughter battling its way up his throat and he wanted to leap with joy. "The year you were born," he fluted, instead, nodding up at the helichoid and feeling his mind race... _The Dinotopian Olympics and the City Council meeting were held, Skybax Riders were commissioned, apprentices became masters, somewhere a craftsman made the best work he'd ever made, a dolphinback came ashore, two people had a falling out, two people became friends once more... _but he could not find the words.   
  
The boy pursed his lips, unable to understand Malik's language. He approached the saurian, though, and smiled as if he'd found gold nuggets in a rushing stream, reaching out to touch the timekeeper lightly on the shoulder.   
  
"Everyone makes their own story," he said, without enmity.   
  
Malik followed him onto the Museum floor and out the doors onto Fountain Avenue. The boy waited in the street, resting his bare feet in a patch of shade provided by overhanging gutters, while Malik turned his 'gone to eat' sign in the door. They walked together, without speaking, past two laughing jewelsmiths and around the corner towards Sauropod Square.   
  



	2. The Sunbleached Trail

**Helichoidal**   
  
2 // The Sunbleached Trail   
  
_Eventually a strong coming off a ridge announced our approach to Canyon City. We disembarked at the edge, seeing before us, yawning and beckoning, a dreamland of air and stone._   
  
-- Dinotopia: A Land Apart From Time, by James Gurney   
  
++++++++++++   
  
"It's hot," complained the boy who followed Kaak Atzalcatl down the sloping path of the canyon's western face. Kaak, curly brown hair matted with perspiration, said nothing. The boy was only a couple of years younger than he, but Kaak had flown a thousand necks above the coast and this boy's claim to adulthood was only height; blond hair two heads above Kaak, the two humans had already discussed the latter's Mayan ancestry.   
  
Kaak was still smarting from the boy's words, and so he said nothing, merely led the way along the sun-drenched cliffs.   
  
"Don't you get hot?" The boy asked from behind him, doubly annoying for all his innocuous questions. "What about when you're flying?"   
  
Kaak came across the doorway that led into the cliff and walked right past it; he did not look back to see if the boy frowned, or was confused, or angry. Moments later he rounded a wedge in the cliff and two skybaxes sunned themselves on the terrace before him.   
  
"Go inside," he turned to tell the boy, whose name he would not use. "Tell the woman on the couch you'll be going with Annie in the morning, up to Pteros proper to meet the Hatchery Mother."   
  
"Sure." The boy smiled brightly at him and reached up to wipe his hand across his face. It came away drenched, soaking and slippery. Kaak looked at it and did not offer to shake. The boy knew something was amiss, but just smiled wider and nodded at the door. "I'll go on in then, shall I?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
The boy nodded, and went inside.   
  
Kaak took two deep breaths, up from the very center of his gut, and breathed each out into the hot summer air.   
  
"I have never met such a squishy egg in my life," he said out loud, perhaps to the two skybaxes and perhaps just to the canyons at large. "Squelchy, rather. Poke him and he folds over. Put some hot air on him and he folds in instead of hardening."   
  
The door swung open behind him, wood knocking against the stone of the canyon. A young man, a head taller than Kaak but thin as a thistle, leaned against the doorway. "He dripped all over my paperwork."   
  
Kaak smirked. "He's probably lost a couple rocks of weight today. If Mother clears him for a flight aloft tomorrow, it'll be because he's watered the cliffweed."   
  
The other young man, wearing only the beige pants and a plain red shirt without badge, shook his head in disbelief. "He didn't bring a canteen?"   
  
"He said he'd done a lot of hiking back home." Kaak shrugged. "Said he didn't need one."   
  
"And you took him on the Sunbleached Trail?" The young man, called Sam, laughed. "You're a nasty one there, Rider."   
  
"I know." Kaak turned with a grin and left the skybaxes to their sunning, allowing Sam to hold the door as he slipped inside and pulled his jacket off with a sigh of relief. It was a perfect blend of cool air and pale light in the cliffside office. Skylights filtered sun down by mirror from the cliff face; Kaak sprawled on a blue loveseat and Sam, following him inside, groaned.   
  
"Honestly, Rider. Get a towel."   
  
Kaak lay his head on the back of the sofa, watched Sam cross to the desk. "Do you have one?" he asked, feeling cheeky. "Because, you know, I wasn't expecting to have to take Sunbleached today."   
  
"No, you were expecting a nice boy from Treetown who's learned a bit of sense." Sam reached behind his desk and pulled open a drawer. A large, fluffy white towel hit Kaak in the face. "There you go."   
  
The apprentice rider's laugh was muffled through the towel; he made no attempt to remove it from his face. Sam sank gratefully into his own chair. "We need to get a fan in here."   
  
"Yes," Kaak nodded, looked up at the ceiling. "I am not looking forward to the hike up to the rookery tonight."   
  
"It's another couple hours before sunset."   
  
"It'll take me a couple hours to make it up there." Kaak was not to be consoled.   
  
Sam nodded in consolation. "Eating dinner with your parents?"   
  
"Eating dinner with ..." Kaak sighed. "Probably."   
  
"Time for a day off, huh?"   
  
"Sam." Kaak's tone brooked no argument. "You're aware that it's raining in Sauropolis."   
  
"So get on your skybax--"   
  
"And get chewed out by Mom?" Kaak laughed. Sam grinned and pushed himself from his chair.   
  
"Put the dratted towel on properly or I'll give your mother something to chew on you for, dinner absence or not."   
  
Kaak pulled it from his face and shoved it behind his neck. "I'm beat."   
  
"So go get Altanden and go fishing."   
  
"I'd have to walk up to the rookery."   
  
"You apprentices..." Sam shook his head and clucked his tongue in a passable imitation of an ovinutrix. "Getting away with everything."   
  
"Like I said--"   
  
"Your Dad would understand."   
  
"Mom would chew on _him_."   
  
They both reflected in silence on the truth of this. Kaak's mother ruled the Pteros Rookery by virtue of her cooking and her medical prowess. If she said a rider was not to fly, many a rider was consoled by a gourmet dinner in her quarters, but he would still not be flying when it was over.   
  
"So you're up the muddy Amu, then."   
  
"Something of a Sentinel, Mom is," Kaak agreed.   
  
Sam nodded and both young men settled a little more comfortably into their respective seats. Sam did not allow himself a worry; if the apprentice could get away with doing nothing the rest of the day, so could he. There was no more paperwork, no more permissions to acquire, no more visitations to arrange.   
  
This was turning out to be, in essence, a classic Canyon City autumn. As the heat rose, the skybax riders would vanish into the skies for greener, wetter pastures. That Kaak remained at home was only by virtue of his parentage, and also that he'd probably lost a valuable mail route through Sauropolis at the betting tables the night before.   
  
Two pairs of eyes closed in the office, as the sun moved slowly through the sky, disappearing, finally, over the canyon rim.   
  
++++++++++++   
  
Kaak's father, Balam Atzalcatl, was broad-shouldered and stocky, like his son, and he carried with him a notepad that slipped into the wide thigh pocket on his royal blue uniform pants. He finished toweling off from the shower and threw on a clean pair of pants and a grey tunic. Tucking the shirt in, he retrieved the notebook from the floor and placed it on the small sink in the shower room as he wadded his sweaty clothes of the day into a ball and threw them into the hamper with a jump shot.   
  
It had been one of those days, but it was almost over, and the apprentices on meteorological duty were swearing up and down in their reports that the weather would break before the end of the week.   
  
Balam rolled his sleeves to his elbows and absentmindedly flipped through his notepad:   
  
_Meeting with Solara, in-depth review of the dust cloud warnings from the Desert, check the scaffolding project underneath the third Sentinel, track down rumors of Denison's watch, speak with Oolu concerning newest beginner classes, avoid wife's mad ramblings about heat stroke, speak with Daniel concerning heat stroke..._   
  
Those apprentices, he decided, flipping the notepad closed, would be flying mail route through the small towns on Crackshell if he was still breaking a sweat in a week by merely opening the front door of his apartment.   
  
He left the bathroom and met his wife in the hallway. Itzel gave him a quick hug and he kissed her, lingering for a moment. It had been a long day. It was almost over.   
  
"Have you seen Kaak?" she asked, as they stepped apart and she angled for the bathroom.   
  
Balam shook his head. "The fool swapped a good route for tour guide duty, so he should be around."   
  
"Cora in processing hasn't seen him at all today, but one boy came in dehydrated after walking Sunbleached Trail..."   
  
A grin split Balam's face and he chuckled. "Was he polite?"   
  
Itzel leaned around the doorframe, her broad grin mischevious. He came of it honestly, Kaak did. "He was obnoxious. Even the skybaxes were tired of him by the time he'd gone."   
  
Balam nodded as the bathroom door shut in front of him, and he raised his voice to be heard. "After walking Sunbleached Trail, Kaak probably went fishing with Altanden. I'm not worried."   
  
"Shall we set the table for two?"   
  
"Make it three." Balam grinned as the water came on. "Enjoy your cold shower, dear."   
  
He wandered down the hallway into the kitchen and stole a crisp green bean from a collander. Kaak would be in when the boy was in, and probably with a story to tell while he was at it. Balam sank happily into a chair and reached for his notepad and a pen, ready to draft tomorrow's work schedule while he had a moment of peace and quiet.   
  
In the always hectic and moment's-notice world of his daily life, Balam would not have been surprised to see a messenger bird swooping in through the window, chattering. But this afternoon, none came. The sun shone through the cycads planted on the balcony, the shadows of the palm-like trees falling across Balam's shoes. Itzel emerged from her shower with a towel draped over her shoulders and wearing a simple, flowing dress. She kissed her husband on the cheek and went to finish setting the table.   
  
Kaak did not step through the door in time for dinner.   
  



End file.
